


One More Shot

by Jester85



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 09:57:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jester85/pseuds/Jester85
Summary: Don't get excited, it's literally a couple of memes basically.  With visual aids!





	1. Chapter 1

 

"One more shot, Haz, c'mon."

"Ugh, why, Thomas?"

"So then we can go make out and tell ourselves we're drunk enough to not make it weird."

"......okay!"

 

"Do you think they have any idea this is the Spider-Man mask you were wearing when you shagged me twenty minutes ago?"

"H-Haz!  That's between us!"

"Mmm.  Poor little fans, thinking you're all sweet and innocent.  You kinky bitch."

Tom: _just keep smiling, keep smiling, not listening..._


	2. One More Shot: The Story Behind the Meme!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haz should never agree when Tom insists on one more shot.
> 
> A mildly angsty, "Denial ain't just a river in Egypt" follow-up to the "one more shot" pic.
> 
> Tom and Haz are just best mates. Best mates who make out and jerk each other off in broom closets. But only when they're drunk. Because fooling around with your best friend isn't gay if you calculatedly get hammered first.

Haz doesn't know why he agrees whenever Tom insists on "one more shot".

Because "one more shot" is never "one more shot".

In Tom-speak, "one more shot" actually begins with one more shot and ends with Haz slammed into the back of some broom closet and Tom's tongue down his throat.

Which, if we're being totally honest ~~which he's not drunk enough to be yet~~ might have something to do with why he always ends up agreeing.

They're not boyfriends, or gay, or whatever, not that there's anything wrong with that.  They're just two young guys who are best of mates and sometimes shit happens, what's the big deal?

Especially if they carefully make sure they're properly sloshed first.

They've just wrapped _Chaos Walking_ , the latest project Haz has faithfully followed Tom across the world for like some lovesick puppy.

Or so Charlotte likes to tease him about.  He is not a lovesick puppy, he is a loyal friend, so bugger off very much, Sis.

He's just pleasantly buzzed enough to think Tom's hair and hoodie looks cute but not enough to do anything about it yet.  Just enough to watch Tom watching him.

And maybe Tom has a little more bollocks than him, because Tom is the one to decide this is not cutting it for the after party he's got in his naughty little mind.

"One more shot, Haz, c'mon."  It's said casual and flippant, but there's that little _look_ Haz knows, that never fails to get him already halfway to a stiffie, which is not necessarily a good thing, as they're still hanging out looking like nothing more than best mates---which, he has to remind himself, is all they really are, of course---standing no closer than would be normal for platonic, not horny-for-each-other-at-all friendship.

He can never resist that look though, that promise of more in some snatched moment in the nearest dark confined space--- _in the closet_ , he is apparently drunk enough to giggle to himself---so he and Tom tip back their glasses and drink, eying each other over the rims in a way that, were anyone observant enough to notice, might be construed as less than strictly platonic.

They're not boyfriends, or gay, or whatever.  But sometimes one needs a little best friend bonding time.  Bros helping bros. 

And if Tom manhandling him into the closet and crashing their mouths together, smelling like way too much wine and _Thomas_ is more exciting than anything he's done with any girl, well, Haz doesn't have to think about right now.

And if, when they're coming down from their mutual orgasm, wiping come-splattered hands on their jeans, foreheads pressed together, sharing the same hot breath, Tom tips his chin up and kisses him with a little too much tenderness in it, well, of course there's affection between them.  They're best mates and have been since they were kids. 

It doesn't mean they're in love, or whatever.  Except that little niggling voice in the back of Haz's mind has started the disconcerting habit of whispering that maybe he is a little bit in love with Tom, and maybe Tom is with him, and that calls for more shots.

And if, after that second round of shots, he yanks Tom back into that broom closet and they sloppily make out like teenagers, arms wound around each other and hands carding through tousled hair, and it's entirely too passionate, he just won't think about that right now.

Even if The Voice whispers that he'll still have to think about in the morning.


	3. One More Shot: A Shot Too Far (The Sequeling!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm the one who's had too many shots, for somehow spinning an angsty multi-chapter fic out of a stupid meme I pulled out of my ass in two seconds.
> 
> In which shagging your best mate in your bed, in the home you're cohabiting in, might be harder to shrug off as bros being bros than a totally platonic handjob in a broom closet.
> 
> Angst with a happy(ish) ending. Slight questions of dubcon, but not really (someone worries they pushed something on someone else).

In hindsight, Haz isn't sure why they didn't see this coming.

And he's forced to admit that accepting an offer of cohabitation from your totally platonic best friend whom you occasionally swap spit and handjobs with in broom closets might be a recipe for escalation when you've got the whole house and all of your free time and endless opportunities for messing around whenever the mood strikes you.

In hindsight, if he was trying to keep that little niggling voice stubbornly insisting that it is not at all platonic to get off with your best mate on a semi-regular basis and you're totally gone on him at bay, this might not have been a recipe for success. Because while he and Tom have swapped spit and pumped each other's pistons, there is an unspoken rule that that's where the line in the sand is drawn.  They're just messing around, it's not like they're having sex.  He's never been all the way naked with Tom, or even half-naked in any kind of sexual context, because apparently to boy minds, it's easier to pretend there is nothing at all intimate about what you're doing when all you're doing is whipping your dicks out and there's still clothing between the rest of you.

Funny thing: as it turns out one particularly shitfaced evening, it's a little harder to try to tell yourself there is nothing unusual going on here when you're ass-naked in your best mate's bed and he's fingering your bum. Haz chooses not to speculate on why Tom seems to have a suspiciously readily available supply of lube at hand, though he knows it can be helpful for...self-love purposes. He's a little distracted by the aforementioned fingering.  And general naked sexytimes. 

With his best mate. 

Which he is kinda just going with. _  
_

Because, drunk.  And also, horny.

And naked with Tom.  In Tom's bed.  Which, to drunk horny Haz, is a pretty exciting place to be.

The night is a little hazy, though it included a lot of raucous drinking games, and with he and Tom alone in the house without adult and/or sober supervision, that might not have been a good idea, and how they ended up in here is a bit of a blur of mouths crashing together, abruptly and a little desperately, as it always seems to be, when drunkenness is enough to give in to what they can't seem to face sober, and then tumbling in here, Haz on his back on Tom's bed and Tom rucking up his shirt and mouthing down his chest to his unbuckling belt, muttering a heated litany against his skin, " _sohotHaz, needyouHaz, wantyousobad, needtohaveyou, needtofuckyou, godHaz..._ "

Tom rips his pants off like they've personally offended him, Haz realizing with a small flush that this is the first time Tom's had him naked, and what with the way Tom's hot desperate breath had been traveling perilously south, he thinks he might be in for a blowjob, and while that's not something he'd have ever asked for or expected---because what bloke really wants to suck a dick, even his best mate's---he's not about to turn it down if Tom has his heart set on it.

But that's not what Tom is after tonight.  Tom rocks back onto his knees in front of Haz, easily peels his own shirt up over his head and flings it into the corner, and Haz takes in the sight of his friend.  It's not like he hasn't seen Tom shirtless plenty of times---Tom's never been shy about whipping his shirt off at the slightest opportunity, and they play basketball in just their shorts in the summer---but he gets to drink in how Tom's Spider-Man training regimen has been paying off and filling him out.

While he doesn't feel like his own body stacks up against Tom's right now, Tom seems to be drinking in Haz too, his eyes dark with lust and looking like he wants to eat him alive, and then Tom is unbuckling his belt, shrugging out of his pants and idly stroking his own dick, hard and neatly shaven clean as Tom keeps it, not taking his lust-filled gaze off of Haz as he reaches for the small bottle of lube on his dresser.

When Tom tugs at his knees, raising them up, Haz goes easily, not thinking and letting Tom manhandle him around, until the shock of a wet, cool finger at his bum, and _oh_ , and then Tom slips it inside and _this_ isn't anything they've done before.  It's not _bad_ , though it feels a little weird wiggling around up there, and Haz isn't exactly sure how much he's supposed to be getting out of it, and Tom is adding more lube and adding more fingers, and Haz realizes _Tom is getting ready to fuck him._

It occurs to Haz in a vague, hazy sort of way that perhaps he should be slightly more alarmed at how things have, but while Haz has never done anything like this before, between the drunkenness and it being Tom, he's honestly just kind of going with it.

Tom tries to play it off as if he knows what he's doing, but there's a little clumsy fumbling as he maneuvers them into position, Haz's long legs going up, ankles settling on Tom's shoulders, a nervous puff of breath past Haz's foot as he slicks himself up.

This seems to be passing alarmingly quickly out of Bros Helping Bros territory, as well as out of bounds of anything that can be considered remotely heterosexual, and nobody is slamming the brakes.  Haz watches while Tom takes himself in hand, though he doesn't see how it can possibly fit.  Tom fumblingly gets a condom on, and Haz thinks of cracking the tension by joking that it's not as if Tom need worry about knocking him up, but then Tom is probing at his bum, trying to find where he's going, and then it turns out it does fit after all.

_Huh.  How about that shit._

Except while Haz knows well that Tom isn't _that_ big, it feels like someone is shoving a broom up there.  It _hurts,_ and he almost tells Tom to stop, but then there are trembling fingers carding through his hair, and Tom breathlessly stammering if he's alright, and Haz opens his eyes to find Tom, eyes blown wide as he gapes down at Haz like Haz is some wondrous newly discovered thing, and _fuck it._

Haz doesn't end up saying stop.  Haz ends up getting fucked.  In the arse.  By Tom.  In Tom's bed.

This is _not_ how Haz imagined this evening going, and it's clumsy and awkward for the first few thrusts until Tom finds something approaching a groove.  Not that Haz is thinking coherently enough to be judging his best mate's shagging skills.  He's fisting tangled sheet in white-knuckle grip, biting his bottom lip against the push slowly working its way deeper into his tight body, his own dick fallen to half-hard and forgotten. 

Tom might be shitfaced enough to be having his wicked way with Haz's arse, but he's not so far gone that he doesn't notice it's a little hard for Haz at first, and one of his hands slips free from Haz's thighs, seeking Haz's fingers, tangling, intertwining.  Haz abandons sheet for Tom, grips, holds on, finding purchase, anchoring himself to _Tom_ like a lifeline. _  
_

Haz looks at Tom, and Tom looks back at him; over long moments their gazes are locked, and Haz determines to distract himself from the invasion in his ass---it's slowly starting to not hurt as much, though it's not totally going away---by letting his eyes wander over the boy in front of him.  Tom's sweat-damped hair is slicked to his forehead and there's a sheen of sweat across his collarbone that Haz wants to lick off, his chest heaving between Haz's parted legs hoisted onto his shoulders.  Gradually Haz releases the bottom lip he's been biting, his eyes down to Tom's abs, taut and tight with each thrust, and then he looks back up at Tom, and Tom's eyes are dark with lust and staring down at Haz like right now Haz is the only thing in the universe, and Haz feels a coil of heat in his guts and a small renewed pulse in his dick.  It's not enough to get him all the way hard again, not as hard as Tom is inside him, but enough to remind him it's there.

Their fingers stay entwined all the way through it---which isn't that long---both of them holding on even when sweat makes their grip slick, Haz watching mesmerized as Tom's face shifts from furrowed brow and intense concentration to slowly coming apart, his breath coming heavy and eyes blown wide, a sheen of sweat across his collarbone and hair hanging down.  The rest around their joined fingers fades into a hazy sweaty drunken blur, but they maintain this anchor to reality through creaking bedsprings, through groans and grunts and pants of breath, until finally Haz's name groans past Tom's parted lips and Tom's hand clenches hard in Haz's own like it's never letting go.

  *** * ***

Tom is in the kitchen, nursing the mother of all hangovers and trying to wrap his head around exactly what the fuck happened last night--- _what happened was you drunkenly fucked your best friend in the ass---_ when Harrison comes stumbling, bleary-eyed and in his glasses, running a hand through his bedhead, out to join him.

From Tom's bedroom.  From Tom's bed.  Where they'd fucked and then passed out, stone drunk.  

Where Tom had woken up in the morning feeling like his skull was several sizes too small for his brain, realizing he was naked and not alone, Haz curled up asleep beside him equally naked.  Their clothes strewn haphazardly all over the floor and flung into corners, a bottle of lube and a used condom confirming what his hazy fragmented memories were telling him, and then freaking out and throwing on his pajamas and fleeing from the scene of the crime.  A further trail of evidence awaited him in the den, empty shot glasses---damn, they did a _lot_ of shots last night---as hazy, fragmented memories creep back into his throbbing head.  A frantic, desperate blur, drinking with Haz, crashing onto the bed with Haz, _fucking_ Haz...

And just as he's trying to process _that_ , Haz materializes in the kitchen.

Tom notices the way Haz is walking a little stiffly, and he ducks away, face heating in shame.

The silence isn't companionable, the way it should be.  It's awkward.  Last night is still in the room like a great big drunk gay elephant.

"Want tea?" he asks finally, desperate to say something, anything, to fill the silence.  He can't bear it anymore, and he can't look at Haz's face, not after what he did to him last night.

Harrison's face is soft, quiet, timid, and so very un-Haz-like.  "Tom..."

Tom's fingers stutter against the teapot.  "I think it's getting a little old, but we could pop down to the store later, and I told Paddy I'd come over tonight, but---"

" _Tom..._ "

Tom swallows, looks up, because Haz deserves that.

Haz looks pale and scared, a little shellshocked.  Tom can't keep looking at him, because Haz probably feels fucking violated and taken advantage of, you invite him to live with you and then you _fuck him_ and how did things go so far last night??

Haz runs a nervous hand through his hair again, eyes wide and flicking around everywhere.  "You, um....we had sex last night."

Tom braced his arms against the counter, needing something to anchor himself to.  "I know, Haz.  And I am..... _so,_ so sorry.  I did _not_ mean for that to happen."

Haz nodded slowly.  "Wasn't something I expected, mate," he mumbled with a weak attempt at a smile.

Tom closed his eyes at the prickle of moisture in them, because of course Haz feels betrayed by him, of course.  _Haz has been so loyal, and you do this to him?_

"Do...." he trailed off, terrified of the answer but having to ask, "Do you feel like I....forced you?"

Haz's eyes snap up.  He looks shocked.  "Of course not."

"But I....you were drunk, and I just...."

" _Tom_ ," Haz says firmly, stepping forward and gripping him by the shoulders, "We were drunk.  We had sex.  I didn't tell you to stop.  I'm not sure how I feel about what happened last night, but you did not _force_ me."

"Did I hurt you?"

"A little."

_You hurt him, you fucking hurt Haz._

He can't stand here anymore.  He feels disgusting, and this is all so wrong, and he's allowed them to cross some line that's blown this.... _thing_ all to hell, and he's grabbing his hoodie and his keys off the counter with no idea where he's going.

"We should talk about this," Haz says behind him, but Tom is gone.

*** * ***

He drives blindly, aimlessly, with no idea where he's gone, ending up deciding a bare stretch of farmland in rural England an hour or so from London is as good a place as any to let a few cows bear silent witness to his existential crisis.

_You fucked your best friend.  You fucked.  Your best.  Friend._

Of course, he and Haz have fooled around before.  That's not a new development.  But this....there is no way to mentally shrug this off as just "bros helping bros", and in the cold light of day that excuse feels embarrassingly lame anyway.

The field blows in the wind, and the cows stand in silent neutrality, and he clenches the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, and then he flails around and yells and cries a little.

For maybe twenty minutes or so.

When he's exhausted himself, he's just resting his forehead on the wheel, barely aware of a vehicle pulling up and car door slamming behind him until he's startled awake by a knock on the window.

Haz is peering down at him, eyes big with concern.  His hair is all messed up and his hoodie even looks crooked, like he threw his clothes on and followed him out the door.

" _Tom, please....just open the door..._ "

Tom sniffles a little.  He wants Haz.  He doesn't want Haz.  He wants to tell him to fuck off and leave him to wallow in his pity party with the cows.  The cows don't judge him.

He opens the door.

Haz sinks to his knees and wraps him up in his arms, and Tom has his head on Haz's shoulder and his arms around Haz's neck and is crying like a little kid again, and Haz just shushes and pets him until the second panic attack is over, and they're just crouched together by the roadside, arms around each other.

"You scared me, mate," Haz murmurs into Tom's hair, "I didn't know where you went, I just stayed on this road praying it was the right one..."

"I'm sorry," Tom whispers, and he's not sure which thing he's apologizing for.

"I think we have to talk," Haz says finally, and Tom swallows, nods. 

They sit in Haz's car.  They just sit there for a bit, staring straight ahead, listening to the wind.

"So," Haz starts slowly, because really Haz is braver than him, "I'd say it's about time to admit to myself and to you that I have feelings for you.  And unless I'm truly shit at reading people, you have feelings for me back."

Tom turns to look at Haz, at his wide but kind pale eyes and his tousled hair and his face that feels like home, and of course he loves Haz, _of course he does,_ and he reaches over, sets his hand on Haz, the other boy rubbing his thumb gently over smooth pale skin.  "I do."

Haz nods, turns his gaze back out over pastureland.  "Can't drink our way out of dealing with this anymore, mate."

Tom starts to speak, swallows, looks down.  "I don't want to lose you."  There it is.  His biggest fear, out in the open.

Haz squeezes his hand.  "You aren't going to lose me.  I love you too much."

A little wild flicker of hope flares in Tom's chest.  "I love you too."

"Well good, 'cause I'm not some floozy, you know," Haz jokes, even if it comes out a trifle forced.

"Haz," Tom says, shifting to face him, "I'm sorry if I hurt you.  I'd rather poke my eye out than hurt you, I swear---"

"Stop apologizing for fucking me," Haz cuts off a little more firmly, "We were both there.  You fucked me and I let you.  So, stop apologizing."

Tom shuts his mouth with a snap, feeling chagrined.

"How much do you remember about last night?" Haz asks after a moment.

Tom wracks his brain in concentration.  "Not....much?  But....enough.  Enough to know what happened.  Enough to know I wasn't...that gentle."

"Yea, I'm not sitting that comfortably right now, so thanks for forcing me into a car to go track you down after shagging me into the mattress," Haz tosses back, "I remember more, though."

Tom isn't sure where Haz is going with this.  "Y--yea?" he breathes out, hesitant, fearful.

"Yea.  I remember that it....it hurt, but then you asked me if I was okay.  And you held my hand the whole time.  And then I just stopped thinking about it when I saw your face.  You looked like you'd found some beautiful place.  And that place was me.  I was making you look like that.  Put a little snap back in my dick, seeing you like that.  I could get hard right now thinking about it.”  A slight smile with a hint of cheek passed over Haz's face.  "And, if we're being totally honest mate, the way you groaned my name when you came was, well....kinda fucking hot." 

Tom is blushing fiercely by the time Haz is done with his little impromptu monologue, and he's not sure how to respond to it.

"So, we like each other," Haz finishes.  "And I finally don't feel terrified to admit that, and....it feels kind of fucking _good,_ Tom."

Tom is staring at Harrison now, his face, his eyes, his hair.  He wants to kiss him.  He wants to touch him. 

"So how about we go home and see what happens?" Haz asks, a faint little smirk creeping onto his face that Tom feels himself replicating.

"Kay."

They separate into their cars and head home.  And although Tom knows it isn't going to be this simple, that there's still shit they have to figure out, somehow it doesn't feel so scary anymore.

Because it's still just him and Haz.  And they're going home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
